Bedtime Stories
by muffinanarchy
Summary: Grace wants to hear one more story about the curious girl.


The room that had been so unused for so many years was now filled with laughter as Jefferson tucked his daughter into bed, arranging her stuffed animals around her. The white rabbit toy, that had been a constant reminder of the fact that he didn't have her, was no longer mocking him. Instead, it lay in the crook of Grace's arm, peeking over the blankets. He kissed her forehead and stroked her hair back, smiling. Grace moved in the bed, tilting her head to one side.

"Will you tell me one more story, Papa? Please?"

"Just one more," Jefferson chuckled, walking across the room. "And then you have to go to sleep."

He picked up one of the small stools from the tea party table and brought it over, sitting beside the bed. Grace watched him, waiting patiently for him to start.  
"Now, I know you want to hear a story about the curious girl, don't you?"

"She's my favourite." Grace said. Jefferson rubbed his hands together, clearing his throat.

"Past the Tulgey Woods of Wonderland, there was a little cottage. In that little cottage, there lived a man who made hats. He had hats everywhere. He had hats in the kitchen, hats in the bathroom, and hats upon hats upon hats." Jefferson told her, watching her take it in.

"But the man was quite lonely. His friends had gone, disappeared into Wonderland. All he had were his hats, until the day that someone knocked on his door."

"Alice," Grace whispered, her face lighting up. He nodded, a smile creeping onto his face.

"Alice. She knocked three times, waiting for the door to be opened. The man, who had almost dropped his teacup at the sound of the knocking, because nobody knocked on his door, rushed as fast as he could through his house. When he pulled the door open, Alice laughed straight away. Do you want to know why?"

"Why?"

"The man had four hats on his head. One purple, one green, one blue and one yellow," he laughed quietly. "But he didn't mind that she laughed. In fact, the man had to stare at her. He said her name and she nodded at him. The man, who had met her before, didn't believe it at first. She looked nothing like she had done the first time she had come to Wonderland. She was grown-up, but when she smiled, he relaxed. It was the same smile he remembered from all those years ago, when he had first met Alice."

He gave Grace a glance, who was still listening intently with the rabbit held tightly in her arms, and focused on telling the story, looking at his hands. He started to twist his fingers, trying to keep them busy.

"He did what he and Alice did best – invited her inside for a tea party. This time, he wasn't rude. He didn't ask her riddles and he didn't tell her that her hair needed cutting. Instead, he asked her how she had come back to Wonderland. He wanted to know everything. It had been so long since he'd seen Alice that he needed to ask her about everything. Did she still take her tea with one sugar? Did she still prefer books with pictures inside? Did she still have a cat named Dinah? He wanted to know everything. Even when the night fell, the two continued talking. He brought out lanterns and blankets, saying that his tea parties were not an inside activity. Alice laughed at him, calling him a 'silly Hatter'. He didn't mind it. If anybody else had called him 'Hatter', then he would have been angry, but this girl was his Alice. By the time the sun rose, they had talked about everything they possibly could have. Alice had fallen asleep at the head of the table, with a half-empty cup of tea on the table in front of her. The man, who didn't want to wake her, hurried inside his house. He unlocked the chest at the foot of his bed, that hadn't been open for so long that it had begun to gather dust, and got to work. He pricked his fingertips more than once with the needles, but it soon came back to him. He worked quickly and quietly, making sure the stitches were perfect. He worked for a while, until he was satisfied with the finished product. Then, after a long while of checking it over, he went back outside. Alice was still asleep in the chair, covered up by the blankets. The man walked over to her and placed the gift in front of her, tucking some of her hair behind her ear. He took the quiet moment to just look at her, his Alice, and smile. She might have grown older, but she was still the same curious girl who liked to talk about tea parties and rabbits in waistcoats. She was still his Alice. The man, the Hatter, he kissed the tip of Alice's nose and took her teacup, taking it inside. Alice, who had been awake all the time he had been looking at her, smiled. She peeked out of the blankets and saw the most magnificent hat, just waiting for her. It was beautiful, Grace. The Hatter had made it in all the colours that Alice liked the most. And Alice, she loved it. She put it on her head and she didn't take it off. Not for a long time."

As he finished speaking, Jefferson stilled his twitching fingers. He was expecting Grace to ask for another story, but her voice never came. He looked up to see that she had fallen asleep, her hands now loosely cradling the rabbit. He shook his head and smiled softly at his daughter, getting up to kiss the tip of her nose.

"Goodnight, my Grace."

Jefferson crept out of the room, leaving the door slightly open. They kept it like that now to benefit both of them – sometimes he couldn't sleep without checking that she was still there, and sometimes Grace got worried that he was going to disappear, like he had done all those years ago. Almost the instant that he stepped into his room, he allowed himself to slump over. All the stories for Grace about curious Alice were beginning to get to him. He couldn't keep telling Grace stories about her without opening up wounds he had closed long ago. Being brought to Storybrooke all those years ago had cost him one thing - his Alice.

He didn't know if she had gone back for him. He didn't know if she had moved on from him. All that he did know was that the only memories he had left of her were the small, white book with the handwritten pages in the top draw next to his bed; and at the very back of the locked closet in his room a dusty hat box, with the colourful hat that he had made for his Alice inside.


End file.
